


a strange form of madness

by thenightpainter



Series: (the artist Flint series) [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Continuations of my artist Flint ideas, Eleanor begins to understand Flint but only has more questions, Gen, Nassau Planning, Origins of the Brotp, Set around 1706-1707, ones she knows better than to ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 18:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenightpainter/pseuds/thenightpainter
Summary: Eleanor wanders towards the huts on the beach, and that is where she spots him sitting, the man who they say fears nothing. He has a large book which he is holding firmly in his left hand, and he is focused, writing away.It’s odd, everyone is calling him some sort of madman, a former Navy man with the rage of a monster, and yet Eleanor finds herself agreeing with the things he's been saying.Things are changing in Nassau, and amidst many disagreements with her father, Eleanor finds herself an unlikely ally in a feared pirate captain.





	a strange form of madness

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to NahaFlowers (buildarocketboys on tumblr) for being my beta! 
> 
> This is a bit of a prequel to [because the sea and the rocks don't feel pain](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11057886)

Eleanor steps out onto the hot beach, instantly feeling the hot sun on her dark dress. Yet, the heat doesn't bother her that much - at least, it's nothing compared to the rage that has burned in her since that morning. With the lack of wind and heat, all the pirates are either stuck out at sea or lying around drunk somewhere, and Eleanor can understand them quite well on a day like today. She's come to her own standstill with her father, who still refuses to see that things need to change in Nassau. He can’t possibly think that he could have her checking the books for him and not have things to say about his operation, she thinks. One that would be in some trouble soon if they didn't change their tactics - he has no plans for the future put in place and the defences are nowhere near what they need to be. Her father might be a bit too concerned with appeasing all parties involved. Change is necessary and even if the pirates don’t like it at first they will be better off for it in the long run.

Eleanor wanders towards the huts on the beach, and that is where she spots him sitting, the man who they say fears nothing. He has a large book which he is holding firmly in his left hand, and he is focused, writing away.

It’s odd, everyone is calling him some sort of madman, a former Navy man with the rage of a monster, and yet Eleanor finds herself agreeing with the things he's been saying. She witnessed the fight that broke out between him and her father. Not many of the pirates have the balls to talk to Richard Guthrie like that, at least to his face. And this man openly disagreed with him while completely sober.

She walks further down the path and he looks up for a brief moment, noticing her approach. As she walks up the steps of the hut she realizes that he isn't writing at all, but rather drawing. There's a black pencil in his right hand that leaves smudges everywhere including the sleeves of his white shirt and on the page, on which there is a picture of a woman. Eleanor has seen that woman before. She's the one they call the witch, but more likely she’s simply the captain's wife.

“Miss Guthrie,” he greets her, only glancing up for a moment. “Have you come to speak to me on behalf of your father? Because if that’s the case you can tell him that scheme of his won't work.” He speaks calmly, but behind it there's just a taste of that anger that half the island whispers about.

“No,” she says plainly. She finds that she isn’t afraid of him. It angers her, as always, that none of the men here see her as capable of her own ideas, only following her father's orders, going about his business. “I am not my father's assistant.”

“No, it's clear that you are not,” he answers, not even looking up, and it surprises her. “Have a seat, Miss Guthrie,” he offers, motioning to the bench across from him.

“Eleanor,” she corrects him but takes the seat.

He stops, pulling the page out of his book and setting it aside, finally looking at her. “Your disagreements with your father don't go unnoticed.” He goes back to drawing something. Sitting closer she notices something about him that she hadn’t before, there’s a deep sadness in his eyes. “Perhaps you have a better understanding of this island and what it needs than anyone else,” he continues.

“Well my father certainly doesn't.”

“Yes, from what I understand your father imagined this would be a temporary endeavour. An opportunity to earn some money and then leave when everything inevitably goes to shit, yet you don't see it that way, do you?”

“No, I do not.”

“Yes, and now enough time has passed to show that this is something else. That this place has promise and that it can flourish - that is, of course, if there is someone who can manage its trade wisely.” He stops and looks at her, and she realizes exactly what he's implying. Then almost noticing her surprise, he continues. “It's clear that you're basically managing things already. So when your father decides to move on to different things, this place will be yours.”

“What's it to you?” He's been here what, a year? It was curious, why was a pirate captain so concerned about such long term things? Then again, he isn't like any pirate captain she's seen before - he sketched, for fuck’s sake. Perhaps some of the things that were said about him were true, but there’s something different about him, he’s nothing like the other ex-navy men she's seen.

“I simply think we may have a shared interest in seeing this place succeed. A stable Nassau, one that can govern itself.” Eleanor sees something in his face fall, something deeply sad. He doesn’t look so much the terrifying pirate captain anymore. Eleanor thinks that perhaps she may understand him a bit better than she first thought. “If I may ask, why are you so invested in this place?” he finally asks.

“I've lived here all my life, I've seen it at it’s worst-,” she pauses and there's a nod from him, as though he understands.

It’s a few minutes before he speaks again. “The Spanish raids. I'm sorry.” He looks up for a moment, then returns back to his page.  

He’s lost something, or maybe _someone_ , she realizes, and somehow it’s different from the loss of other men here. Everyone here’s lost something - whether it’s their home, or their place in society, or simply their dignity. “Thank you,” she responds, quietly. “But I know this place has promise, that it can be something better,” she says, more confidently this time. There’s a small, but sad smile from him in response.  

They sit quietly for some time longer. Two people, invested in this place’s future, hiding from the heat - they’d made an odd pair trying to change this place, she thinks. But would it really be so odd, on an island full of pirates?

He finally stops, studying the page in his book. After a moment he rips it out too and hands it over to her.

Eleanor takes it, looking at the image. It’s her, and it's remarkably accurate. It suddenly strikes her that she'd never had anything like this, paintings or drawings in her likeness. “I- thank you,” she manages.

He stands up. “Now, I have business to attend to. Best of luck, Eleanor.” He smiles.

“Yes, good day, Captain.” She stays behind, watching him walk away. She continues to study the picture, then something in the corner catches her eye. It's a small detail, something he probably didn't even realize he was doing, she thinks. The initials in the corner read “J.M.”, a name she is entirely unfamiliar with. Eleanor ponders the signature and wonders about all the things she still does not know, and likely may never know, about Captain Flint.


End file.
